Rattling Cages
by asterixgazer
Summary: "Are you really hiding from me like we're six years old?" he heard. "Yes!" Stiles tries to fight his growing feelings for Derek, but the universe is just hell bent on ruining that, now isn't it?
1. Chapter 1

An idea I've been messing around with for a while now. It might offend a few of you, but hell, it offended me and I'm the author. I don't think any other characters will be seen in this story.

**Disclaimer.** (this thing is boring as fuck.) Jeff Davis is the executive producer of Mtv's Teen Wolf and, therefore, owns all rights to this show and it's characters. I don't claim ownership and am not making any profit from this story. Please don't sue me, I'm a poor highschooler.

**Rating.** Sexual situations, provocative language, perverse conversation topics, and all around naughtiness.

* * *

It was dark. That was the first thing Stiles noticed. He looked around, stumbling blindly with his hands out, trying to figure out where he was. The dim lightly suggested somewhere underground. Stiles took three steps forward but fell to the ground after smashing his shin into something hard. A low clang told him he ran into something hollow and metal. He turned to look at what he had hit. As his eyes adjusted, he could made out a cylinder about as tall as he was. The more he focused, he made out that it was a water heater. He looked around once more and realized he was in the basement of his father's old house.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked once. The water heater had a note on it. _"Stiles, please fix the water heater. There's a lighter on top if you need to relight it or need any extra light or anything of the sort. I threw the breaker so you wouldn't shock yourself. I'm ordering pizza for dinner, Dad."_

Okay…? Water heater, water heater, how the hell does one fix a water heater? Stiles got up, being sure not to bear much weight on his left leg, but to his surprise, it didn't hurt. He shrugged it off and decided to walk upstairs to find a manual, but the further he walked from the broken appliance, the darker it got. The stairs seemed to have disappeared into the blackness. The man turned back and started toward the water heater. When he got to the appliance, he started to look for the lighter. It was no where to be found. "Okay, what the holy hell is going on here?!"

A small click echoed through the basement. Stiles turned on heel and looked for the source of the noise. A faint light was flickering a small ways away from where he stood. It shone at about face level, illuminating a dark face. It was a man with a stubbly chin and deep hazel eyes. He held Stiles' gaze in the most intense way the man had ever been looked at. The gaze was calculating and judgmental.

"Hello?"

A loud snarl tore itself from the mysterious man's throat, baring sharp white fangs. Stiles jumped and stumbled back a few steps as a strong wind picked up, putting out all the lights. The last thing Stiles saw was the man being swallowed by total and utter darkness before his vision tunneled to nothingness.

_**"Ahhh!"**_

Stiles jolted awake, sitting straight up in his bed. He looked around. He was in his apartment, Jessica lying next to him. She groggily woke up and glared over at him. "Another nightmare?"

"No," he said, running a hand through his short cropped hair. "It's the same one. It's always the same one…"

She sighed and reached over the nightstand to flick on the lamp. Everything was illuminated, making the room seem a little less menacing. The girl sat up and wrapped an arm around the shaking man's shoulders. "I'm sorry, babe…"

"It's okay…" Stiles whispered, closing his eyes. He rubbed his face a few times and looked over at the alarm clock. "Fuck…"

"3:03… are you going to come back to bed, or stay up again?"

Stiles stood up, blankets falling to the bed. He grabbed a tank top from the dresser and pulled it over his head. "I'm gonna stay up."

"Stiles, you're only human, you know. You're gonna need more than three hours of sleep a night eventually…"

"You think I don't know that?!" Stiles yelled, turning on his friend.

"There's no need to blowup at me, asshole!"

Stiles stormed out of the room, slamming the door. Jessica just stared at the doorframe, tears clouding her vision.

Stiles stomped into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge, pulling out the milk carton. In a moment of defiance, he drank straight from the carton, some spilling out of his mouth. He wiped at his lips, catching the spilled liquid. He threw the jug back into the fridge and slammed the door, but it bounced back open. He grabbed the handle and shoved the door closed. "Just stay fucking closed, bitch…"

There was the slight creak of floorboards. "Stiles?"

He looked up to see Jessica standing in an oversized t-shirt that she had thrown over her underwear. "What?"

"I'm sorry…"

Stiles just glared at the girl, but couldn't convince himself to stay mad at her. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, resting his cheek on the top of her brunette head. "Don't apologize, honey. I'm sorry. It's just been stressful, with these dreams, and work, and my dad…"

"Babe, if you need more time, talk to David."

Stiles scoffed. "Like David would give a flying fuck about me…"

Jessica pulled away and walked over to the sink. She got a clean glass from the drying rack and filled it with tap water. She gave it to Stiles. "Then quit."

"Jessica, I can't."

"Stiles, I will take care of things for a bit, don't worry about that! I really want you to quit…"

"Jess, no," Stiles said in the 'drop it' tone that meant the conversation was over and never to be brought up again.

_.~rattlingcages~._

Later that day, around 9:30pm, Stiles sprinted as fast as he could to his job, which he was half an hour late for. "Motherfucking fucker!" Stiles whispered harshly to himself as he ran through the unlocked back door. Stanley let him in without checking his ID.

"Better hurry, kid! You're gonna miss it!"

Stiles ran into his personal room and changed as fast as he could, lacing up the last of his boots as he ran backstage. He looked over at Jack, desperation evident in his eyes.

"Sorry, Stiles."

"Fuck!" he whispered again.

The music onstage faded as thunderous applause filled the smoky air. "Stiles!"

Stiles internally swore as he turned around, fake sir plastered on his face. A tall, big boned man with thinning black hair and a missing front tooth gestured for him. Stiles clicked over in his heeled boots. "Yes, Mr. Davidson?"

"What the fuck was that?"

Stiles feigned innocence but knew it was pointless. He was caught. "What, sir? Am I in the wrong outfit?"

The man coughed thickly then spat on the floor. "You know what I'm talking about, you little worthless shit. You missed your cue."

"Sir, I can explain-"

"My office," the man said, walking away. He expected Stiles to follow his heels like a loyal little dog.

Stiles looked over to his co-worker for help, but Jack just shrugged. The man followed the path his boss had taken to a heavy set oak door labeled 'The Boss.' The door creaked slightly as Stiles swung it open, stepping into the room. He shut the door behind him and gulped quietly, avoiding the heavy set man's piercing gaze.

"Now, Stiles, you're a good employee. So… pretty…" Stiles flushed bright red as Mr. Davidson ran a calloused hand across his smooth cheek. "But, tardiness must be punished… What ever will I do with you…?"

Stiles started with "Sir, I've only been late once-" but was promptly quieted as a strong hand flew across his face.

"Insubordinate behavior will not be tolerated, Stiles."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Stiles' boss chuckled and wrapped a hand around the back of Stiles' neck. He pulled the young boy close to him and smiled wickedly down on him. "If you begged prettily enough, I recon I could be persuaded to forgive you…"

_.~rattlingcages~._

Fifteen minutes later, Stiles stumbled as he was pushed by the scruff of his neck out of his boss's office. He wiped the remainder of what had happened away from his swollen lips and cried quietly to himself.

"And don't let it happen again!" Mr. Davidson yelled gruffly, slamming the door on the broken boy.

Stiles ran to the personnel bathroom, shoving his way through coworkers who were changing costumes. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, eyes red and puffy. He stared in the mirror and debating punching his reflection, but decided against it. He had trouble popping bubble wrap at times, let alone breaking a glass mirror with nothing but his flimsy fists. The man glared at himself and snarled halfheartedly. "You're a beast, Stiles" he said, trying to pump himself back up. "You're a sexy beast."

The man worked his way through crowds, occasionally stopping to talk to random men. Every once in a while, he'd get lucky and meet someone his own age. Most of the clientele, however, were well over 26. Stiles' gaze grazed the crowd quickly, looking for anyone better than the middle aged man who was trying to pull him closer by his suspenders. That's when he saw him.

The man was at the bar, grabbing four beer bottles by their necks. He walked with such a sense of being that Stiles wasn't sure if he was cocky or just confident. The man had stubble that was perfectly managed, not 16-year-old trying to grow a beard for the first time, but not to the point of looking unkempt. His hair, though, stuck in a million different directions like someone had ruffled his hair just a bit too roughly. He sauntered over to a table where three other men sat and handed each a beer, keeping on for himself. He smiled over at a man with a bright pink feather boa around his neck and clinked their drinks together. His eyes lit up with sheer happiness, coupled with a smile full of pearly whites to die for. And his arms. God, could the guy lift a fucking bus?! Holy Sweet Baby Jesus, his abs, which his tight v-neck just clung deliciously to, could double as a washboard for a river family.

Stiles kept admiring the mystery man until he heard someone clear his throat. He turned around and was met with a drink in his face. "Sorry, sir. Can't drink while I'm on my shift…" he quickly lied. Mr. Davidson actually encouraged them to drink, because it caused them to make poor decisions, which lead to happy customers. "I've actually gotta go…" He walked away, leaving the man all alone. Tom would pick it up for him. Tom wasn't just a dancer. He was a slut. He even admitted it_. "I like to be fucked. There's nothing wrong with that… right?"_

Stiles nonchalantly walked over to the table and leaned over, addressing the four men. "What's crack-a-lackin'?" Stiles asked, trying to be friendly.

One of the boaed guys, who was obviously trashed, wrapped an arm around the man in the pink boa and kissed his cheek sloppily. "This lil' fucker's getting hitched tomorrow!"

The groom-to-be blushed and pushed his friend off him and smiled. "Yeah, I'd never been to a … a bar like this… So Derek suggested it and Jake wouldn't stop e-mailing me until I agreed."

"And is this 'Derek' fella here?" Stiles smiled, winking at the groom. Someone tapped him on the hip and the groom pointed to Stiles' left. He looked over and swore. It was the guy. The guy guy. The man guy.

"That'd be me." God, his voice was gruff and tough.

"Uh… oh. You…'re Derek…" Stiles stammered, straightening up off the table. He pulled his shirt down and wished he didn't look… well, like a dancer. "Yeah, good name. Strong name."

"Ohhh!" the drunken friend yelled out. "He totally wants to fuck you!

"Zach, shut up," Derek ordered in an extremely authoritative voice. Jesus, if you weren't scared by a tone like that, you were deaf. "Sorry about him," Derek quickly apologized. "We were gonna leave him… for obvious reasons… but he overheard us talking at work."

"No," Stiles quickly said, arms flailing. "It's okay. I hear way worse, so it's really fine."

"Can I at least pay you for your trouble?" Derek offered.

"Good god, no. I mean, we're supposed to earn our cash… but if you're not comfortable with that…" Stiles was rambling now. He had to end this on a semi-smooth note. "I'm just gonna… I've gotta pee." He couldn't have gotten out of there faster if the place was on fire.

_.~rattlingcages~._

Four hours later, the bar was clear of customers and Stiles was having a drink at the bar with Stanley, their 'big, black body guard.' He sipped on his beer and smashed his head into his arms. "God, Stan, I met the hottest guy ever today…" he mumbled. "And I blew him off with the ole 'gotta pee' routine…"

"Really?" Stanley asked, feigning interest.

"Yes, really, you jerk. Gosh, he was just a stubbly Greek god…"

"Yeah, I remember him. I checked his ID. With a couple guys in boas?"

"Uh-huh."

"What was up with that?"

"Bachelor party for a gay guy."

"Oh…"

"Yup." That was usually how their conversations went, but Stanley must've been feeling extra chatty today, because he said "Yeah, he gave me his number."

Stiles' head shot up like a bullet. "What?"

"Yeah…" Stanley said, pulling out a business card. When Stiles nearly jumped into his lap trying to grab the card, Stanley just held it out at arm's length and pressed a strong hand against the weak boy's chest. "He said for me to give it to someone… but I can't remember who…"

"It was me!" Stiles yelled as he tried and failed to grab the one way ticket to happiness.

"He gave me a name…" Stanley teased, thinking. "It began with an 's'…"

"'Stiles', it was 'Stiles'! Now give me the card, fucker!"

"No… Maybe it was 'Seth'?"

"Seth's a dink; now give me the god damn card before I claw your stupid face off!"

"Oh!" Stanley exclaimed. "It was 'Stiles'!" He handed the card over to his skinny friend, who grabbed at it like it was the last life vest on the Titanic.

"Four-oh-seven, fifty-five fifty-five…" Stiles whispered, reading the card. "Derek Hale…"

* * *

Sorry if that's your phone number. Whoops. I was gonna use "Jenny's number" (867-5309) but the goofiness of that song would ruin any hope for drama that this story (probably doesn't) have.

I'm too tired to make this funny. This is gonna be my longest fic to date, but this is all I have written. I have it mapped out, but that's extremely vague. Unless magic rainbow armadillos shit a good story into my computer, you're gonna have to be patient with me.

Oh, and Jessica and Stiles aren't dating. They're just really close roommates. Her brother died and she kinda uses Stiles as a psuedo-brother while she's his psuedo-mom.


	2. Chapter 2

Yup.

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of this. Starbucks, Awkward, and Teen Wolf all belong to whoever owns them.

Rating: language, violence, adult conversations, etc.

* * *

"Four-oh-seven, fifty-five fifty-five…" Stiles mumbled as he punched the number into his phone. He held the receiver up to his ear and it rang twice before someone picked up. "Hello?"

Stiles hit end and threw his cell on his bed like it was a hot potato. He stared at the device. "Come on, Stiles. It's just a phone call." He picked up his phone and hit 'redial.' It picked up almost immediately. "Hello?"

"Oh, you're… real. Can I speak to Derek Hale?"

"Speaking."

"Oh. Derek. Mr. Hale?"

"Derek."

"Oh, okay… It's Stiles."

"Oh, hello, Stiles!" Oh my god, he remembered him and it wasn't just some flook. "How are you?"

"I'm, you know, good. Can't complain. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing very well, thank you for asking."

"That's good." There was a moment of awkward silence. "So, I was wondering if you… maybe wanted to… you know, meetmeforcoffeorsomething?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, I wanted to know," Stiles took a deep breath. "If you wanted to get some coffee with me? Maybe?"

"That actually sounds really good." _'Don't think into it too much, Stiles…'_

"How does the Starbucks on 25th sound? Maybe in 15 minutes-ish?"

"Starbucks? You know, that sounds wonderful. I haven't been to Starbucks in about five years."

"Wow… So, it's a date? Well, not a date date, but you know-"

Derek chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Hey, I'm sorry to seem rushed, but I've got someone on hold, do you mind?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll just hang up now."

"I'll see you in 15, okay?"

"Yup, buhbye."

"Goodbye."

Stiles pressed end and started lovingly at his new favorite machine. Stiles flushed bright red as he grabbed his jacket and ran out the front door. _'He kept someone on hold for me…'_

_.~rattlingcages~._

"Clover Brewed, two sugars and no milk," Derek ordered, sliding a five on the counter. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked the tiredness from his eyes. He had been staring at computer figures for the last three hours and he had forgotten his glasses at his flat. The man could actually picture where they were resting on his bedside table, laughing at him. The teen put the coffee on the counter and mumbled "2.69." He took the five and started to make change, but Derek waved his hand dismissively and mumbled back "Keep the change."

"Cool, thanks, sir!"

Derek walked over to a table and sat down, momentarily forgetting way he was there. Oh yeah, Stiles. He was a weird kid… But something about him intrigued Derek, made him want to know everything and more about him. Speaking of the devil, the kid was walking in now. He was wearing very tight pants and a suit jacket over… was that a Batman t-shirt…? He walked up to the counter and made a bunch of hand gestures while saying something Derek couldn't hear. The teen behind the counter handed him an iced coffee and some sort of baked good. He paid for the items and looked around. Derek gave a little wave and Stiles' face lit up. He hurried over and almost tripped over his own feet in his rush. He blushed brightly and sat down.

"Hello, Stiles."

"Derek."

Nothing.

"This… is kinda weird…" Stiles said.

"What do you do?" Derek asked, sipping his coffee.

"What?"

"As a profession."

"Oh," Stiles said, tearing off a piece of his pastry. "Well, I… work… where you met me… and I also work at Main Street Café as a waiter."

"Wait…" Derek looked at the pastry. "Is that a morning bun?"

"Yeah… why?"

"Those are my favorite."

Stiles slid the plate closer to Derek. "Want some?"

"Be careful, I might eat all of it…"

Stiles laughed and shook his head. "Have some. I insist."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you…" Derek tore off a small piece and placed it in his mouth, savoring the fluffy treat. Stiles did not die a little inside at the almost orgasmic noise Derek made as he swallowed and took another piece.

"My sister used to always get these when we came here…"

"Oh, but I thought you said you hadn't been here in a while…" Stiles was confused.

"Yeah, she passed away. I haven't been since before she died."

Stiles gasped and started profusely apologizing. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, we could've gone somewhere else, great, now I'm the worst person ever and-"

"Stiles, it's okay. Really," Derek assured him. "I can't avoid Starbucks forever."

"And I just had to order the freaking morning bun. Couldn't get the croissant. Or even the damn scone!"

"Stiles!" Derek said, putting a hand on Stiles'. Stiles did not die of happiness. "Really. I'm fine. I'm actually glad you ordered it. I really missed these things."

"Derek, are you sure?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I think I prefer my buns in the evening…"

Stiles just looked at Derek and smiled. "Really? I like my buns in the car." Were they doing this?

"Hmm… a car fella. I've got a Camaro, and buns are definitely pretty good in there…"

Oh yes, they were deffinately doing this. "Where do you like your buns?"

"In the kitchen. I can be as messy as I want."

Stiles and Derek just held each others gaze for a few moments then they both started cracking up. Stiles had to take a few deep breaths and Derek tried to stifle his snorts as Stiles wiped tears from his eyes. "You snort when you laugh?" Stiles asked, smiling.

"Laura always laughed at me about it…"

"It's cute."

"So are you."

Stiles quieted. "Oh, I…"

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No… It was flattering…"

Half an hour later, the pair was leaving the Starbucks, both wearing a goofy grin. Derek looked down at the whacky kid. Stiles looked over at Derek and blushed at being caught. He wrapped his hand around the taller man's and stopped. "I had… a lot of fun."

"I had a lot of fun, too. We should do that again sometime soon…"

Stiles, in a spur of the moment decision, leaned up on his tiptoes and pressed his lips against Derek's. He was confused when Derek didn't kiss him back. He pulled away and started rambling. "Jesus, Christ, I ruined it, didn't I? I just kiss-raped you, oh my god, I'm a rapist and now you're never gonna call me again and-"

"Stiles…"

"-then I'll go to jail and do you know what they do to guys like me in jail?!"

"Stiles."

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm gonna be droppin' the soap from here to Kathmandu!"

Derek leaned down and took either side of the chatty boy's face in his hands, kissing him passionately. Stiles moaned, his arms falling to his sides. He smiled into the kiss and closed his eyes, slightly chasing Derek's lips when he pulled away.

"So I take it that wasn't an unwanted touch?" Stiles smirked, licking his lips.

"If it was, I probably would've told you…"

"'Stop, please, don't touch there, that, sir, is my no-no square.'?"

"I… guess?"

"Awkward."

"Yeah, just a little."

"Oh, no, it's from the show 'Awkward'."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Well…" they both chuckled. "Now it's awkward."

"You said it."

"Well," Stiles shrugged. "If it's any consolation, you're a good kisser…"

"Thanks? You're a good kisser, too. But… I guess, you get a lot of practice?"

Stiles just stared at Derek. "You didn't really just say that."

"No, I didn't. You must be hearing things."

"And I thought you were perfect," Stiles said, turning around. He started to walk away. "It was nice knowing ya."

"Wait, Stiles!" Derek grabbed Stiles' by the elbow. The smaller boy tried to shake him off, but couldn't Damn those arms that could lift a bus... Derek pulled him back. "I'm sorry!"

Stiles' call of "Help! Unwanted touch!" drew a few strange looks.

"Shut up and let me talk!" Derek yelled, covering the smaller boy's mouth. "Stiles, I… I don't know how to be with people…" he felt the young boy's body relax and he let him go. "My last relationship… didn't go so well. She was mentally unstable, aggressive. I'm just… afraid. I really like you, and I don't wanna mess it up. I was trying to compliment you, but I didn't think about what I was saying, and I'm sorry that I offended you."

"Derek, I'm sorry I blew up. I'm just… sensitive about that job…"

"And I shouldn't have even brought it up."

"No, you shouldn't have. I want you to know… that I don't…" he leaned in close. "I don't have sex with the clients."

"Stiles, you don't have to talk about it-"

"I want to. I actually… haven't…"

Derek looking down at the small boy. "Oh, Stiles…"

"What?!"

He couldn't help it, Derek started laughing. "I'm so sorry, it's just so funny!" he said when Stiles stared at him disbelievingly. A smile slowly crept onto Stiles' face despite his better judgment. "Are we laughing about my virginity?"

"We might be…"

Stiles just laughed even louder.

_.~rattlingcages~._

"Stiles!"

Stiles sighed. It had almost been the perfect day. He turned around. "Yes, Mr. Davidson?"

"My office."

"Wow," Tom laughed, punching Stiles in the arm. "Twice in a row."

"Shut the fuck up, Tom."

Stiles walked into his boss' office, closing the door behind him like always. "Yes?"

"Did you have a good time today?" the heavy man asked, looked at his desk.

"Sir?"

"With your boyfriend."

Stiles heart sunk. "He's not my boyfriend. He's just a friend."

"Do you kiss all your friends? You're an even bigger slut than I thought." He stood and walked around his desk, eyes trained on Stiles. "I don't want any… distractions."

"He's not a distraction, sir."

A fist flew toward Stiles face and he didn't have time to duck before it connected with his cheek. Stiles screamed out and crouched down, clutching at his burning cheek. His hands felt wet. A swift kick connected with his nose, sending him flying on his back. Another scream tore through the air as his boss' large foot stepped down on the base of his neck, blocking any air he was trying to get. He started choking, feeling his face slowly turn blue.

"Don't see him."

Stiles could only cough weakly as the foot pressed down harder.

"Don't ever fucking see him again."

The foot lifted up and Stiles rolled over on his side, choking for a breath. His face quickly regained color and he tried to crawl away, still gasping for a good breath. Another kick landed square in the middle of his back and Stiles collapsed to the floor.

_.~rattlingcages~._

Stiles unlocked his front door and stepped slowly in. "Stiles, is that you?" he heard Jessica call out from the kitchen. "Yeah," he whispered back, not being able to speak any louder than that. She must not have heard him because she asked again. "Stiles?" Jessica came out, drying her hands on a dishtowel. When she saw his face, she screamed and ran over.

His cheek was bloodied and swollen, turning a nasty shade of purple with yellowing edges. His nose was purple too, but it didn't look broken. He had small scratches all over his forehead and his upper lip was swollen.

"Stiles, what…" her hands roamed over his face, careful not to touch any of the injuries. "What happened?!"

"I fell."

She laughed disbelievingly then her face fell. "What happened…?"

"David…"

Her eyes flared with hatred. "I'm calling the fucking cops," she said, reaching for her phone. Stiles grabbed her hand to stop her. "And what are you gonna tell them?! 'Oh yes, excuse me, officer, but my gay roommate was beat up by his pimp!'?!"

"If you're father was still Sheriff, they'd be over here in a heartbeat!"

He glared at her, pissed that she had gone there. "Yeah, well, he's dead, isn't he?! This isn't like one of your books, Jessica! Life sucks, then you die!"

She just glared right back. "Stiles, you've just given up! You're really gonna let him get away with this?!" The petite girl wrenched her hand from his grasp. "Your father would be so disappointed in you."

* * *

Oh no she didn't go there.

Yup, be patient with me.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for not updating in a while, just end of summer and reading projects and the lunar allignment of the sun and moon and shit...

rating M for :** language**. I think that's it in this chapter... and improper use of hispanic accents.

disclaimer. i'm too lazy right now to capitalize. cpitalization, propper spelling, and all things teen wolf belong ot jeff davis. (don't worry, the storie's not like this.)

* * *

It had been three weeks since Stiles had last seen Derek. The man had called him a few times, but Stiles was too afraid to answer it. Was it possible to go through a person withdraw? Things had been really tense between him and Jessica as well. There was a heavy silence weighing down on their apartment, stopping any true conversations. She was even back to sleeping in her own room. They exchange only minor and necessary words, but other than that, nothing.

"Stiles!"

His train of thought was derailed as the cook, Jerry, called his name. "Table six!" he yelled, pointing with his spatula at three plates of food. "Okay!" Stiles yelled back playfully, balancing the plates on his arms. He carefully weaved through the customers, table and chairs until he reached table six. It was a man, wife, and small girl.

"Steak and egg omelet with home fries?" The man raised his hand slightly and thanked him.

"Which means the over easies are for you?" he asked looking at the woman. She nodded and thanked him as well.

"And the junior meal… is for me, right?"

"No!" the little girl yelled, laughing.

"Well, who are they for then?"

"Me!"

"Oh, right," he set the plate down in front of her and she squealed excitedly. Stiles walked away after they refused coffee refills. A loud ringing noise filled the café and he ran over to pick up the phone. "This is Main Street Café, how may I help you?"

"Hello, this is Derek Hale, I'm looking for Stiles."

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god… Stiles pinched his nose and said in a totally not fake Hispanic accent "Um, si, Stiles no work here no more."

"Really?"

"Yes, he was hit by bus full of nun. So sad."

"Stiles?"

"No speakie English, goodbye!" Stiles said quickly, hanging up the phone.

"Who was that?"

Stiles jumped about a foot in the air and clutched a hand to his rapidly beating chest. He slowly turned around and glared at Sarah. "Don't. Sneak. Up on me like that!"

"Don't be such a baby. Who was on the phone?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Uh… wrong number."

"Stiles, if you hung up on a customer-"

"Don't worry, he wasn't a customer," Stiles assured her. "It was my stalker."

"Who'd wanna stalk you?"

Stiles gasped in mock insult. "A lot of people, thank you very much!"

_**.~rattlingcages~.**_

Stiles sighed as he walked to the employee room in the back of the café. He opened his locker and pulled off his black company t-shirt, smelling it. "Aw, man smell…" he whined, not wanting to have to wash it. "And bacon…" He put his gray t-shirt on as Jon walked in.

"'Sup, Stiles?" he asked, opening his locker.

"Just getting changed."

"Cool, cool. Hey, a bunch of us are going bowling, something about the manager's birthday or something… Wanna go?" Jon asked as he watched Stiles try to un-lodge his too-big-for-the-tiny-locker backpack. He pushed his friend aside and gave the bag a strong tug, pulling it out.

Stiles just looked at him and snatched his backpack. "I loosened it for you…"

Jon chuckled. "Sure. So, bowling?"

Stiles shrugged into his bag and shut his locker. "I actually have to go to the farmer's market. But thanks for the offer!"

"Could I give you a ride?"

"I'm uh… I'm actually good. Thanks though…"

"Oh, okay" Jon said, patting Stiles on the back as he shut his locker and went to leave. "If you ever need anything, you know you can ask me, right?"

Stiles just nodded. "Same."

_**.~rattlingcages~.**_

Stiles walked down the street towards the local farmers market as he thought about the recent happenings. David wasn't harassing him at work anymore, so that was a good thing… but god, did he miss Derek… And the fight with Jessica had just been the icing on the damn cake. She wasn't talking to him, and breakfast was just awkward. His phone buzzing drew him out of his thoughts. He looked down at the caller ID and groaned. Perfect…

"I can't talk right now."

"Stiles, what did I do?"

"Nothing, I… I have to go." Stiles hung up before Derek could say anything and resisted the urge to throw his phone across the street then move to the North Pole where Derek couldn't find him. Polar bears are pretty cool… no pun intended… or was it penguins that lived in the North Pole? Santa, just to be safe.

He entered the large building that he had come up to and smiled, inhaling. The farmer's market always smelled like wonderful. Whatever wonderful smelled like… Stiles walked up to the first booth and waved to the elderly woman running it. "Hello, Ethel."

"Oh, my goodness, is that Stiles Stilinski?! I haven't seen you in ages!" she cried out, squinting behind her thick glasses. She shuffled around to the front of the booth and hugged him with a strength that he didn't know the old woman possessed.

He laughed and hugged her back. "Ethel, it's been what? A month?"

"Darling," she said, grabbing either side of his face. "When you're my age, time does whatever the hell you want it to." She pulled the tall-to-her boy down and kissed him like she did when he was a boy. He smiled and wiped the kiss off his lips. "Aren't I a little old for kisses?"

She smacked him lightly. "The day you're too old for kisses is the day I do a backflip on a unicycle."

"That'd be a sight to see." He grabbed a block of cheese that her and her husband made fresh and went to pay for it, but looked at the price and mock gasped. "Five dollars for a block of cheese? This is ludacris!"

"Damn straight, getting old is expensive. But," she walked around to the back of the booth. "I'll make a special price for you." Ethel winked at the boy and grinned widely. "It's free if you bring your boyfriend next month so I can scare him off."

"I'll pay the five bucks" Stiles said bitterly.

"Don't take that tone with me, young man, I'll kick your little ass" she scolded him. "Now, what's the problem?"

"Nothing, it's-"

"Tell me."

No one says no to Ethel. "It's this guy. He's super nice and really smart and-"

"Doesn't matter, is he cute?"

"God, yes! And… Ethel!"

"What?"

"You… nothing. Well, this guy and I went out and I think it was a date… Anyways, David found out-"

"You haven't quit that damned job yet?!" Ethel yelled, drawing a few glances. "Stiles Micheal Stilinski!"

"I'm trying to, I swear! Now will you let me finish the story?!" When she reluctantly clamped her mouth shut and nodded, he sighed. "Good. So, when David found out, he flipped. He said I can't see him and if I do… he said I'm going to regret it."

Ethel sighed and put a wrinkled hand on Stiles'. She looked at him and said "Stiles, sweetie, if there's one thing I've learned in my old age, it's that love does what it wants. It can't be intimidated or forced. You think you really love this man?"

"I think so…"

"Well, 'think so' isn't good enough. It's a simple yes or no question honey, and I know you're not stupid. So answer. Do. You. Love. Him?"

Stiles thought. Do I love the man who told me about his family fire after knowing me for fifteen minutes? Do I love the man who kissed me then laughed at my virginity status? Do I love the man who's been calling me like he needs me more than he needs air? "Yes."

"Good. Now, call this man and tell him how much you love him, then go over to David's office and quit that damn job! And if he gives you a hard time… then tell him to go fuck himself."

"Ethal!" Stiles looked at his pseudo-grandmother, shocked.

"What?!"

"You can't just… nothing."

"You say that a lot, don't you?" she asked, smiling.

He looked down at the cheese and smiled back, putting it in his bag. She acknowledged that he accepted their trade. Stiles leaned over the table and kissed her on the cheek. "Only to you."

Stiles walked around, waving when he saw people he knew and stopping at a few booths. He grabbed a few fruits and vegetables from Taylor, his father's old friend, and some maple syrup from Mary, Jessica's old college roommate. He was just about to pay for a pint of milk when he heard "Stiles?"

He turned around, swearing loudly. Derek was walking toward him with a brown paper bag in one hand. Stiles ditched the milk and ran behind a booth.

"Are you really hiding from me like we're six years old?" he heard.

"Yes!"

Derek tried to approach him, but Stiles ran to the other side of the table, earning a strange look from the Middle Eastern gentleman running the table. Whenever Derek moved to go around the table, Stiles would mirror it, always keeping his adversary at a safe distance.

"Can we just talk?"

"I'm allergic to talking! _Achoo_!"

"Knock it off, Stiles!"

"Who are you, my mother?!"

A stern voice caught Stiles' ears. "Your grandmother, actually. Now, Stiles, come out from Mr. Koothrapali's stand before I drag you out!"

Stiles' head whirred around to look at his pseudo-grandmother in shock. "Ethel, I can't talk right now."

"You can and you will!" she yelled, walking over to grab him by the scruff of his neck. She dragged him out from the poor man's stand and Derek ran over immediately. "Hello, Derek!" Ethel said, letting go of Stiles to hug the taller man.

"Hi, Gran, how're you?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Stiles as he hugged her back.

"Gran?!"

"Boy, you haven't called me that in years!" she laughed. "I used to babysit him!" Ethal explained to Stiles as she let Derek go. "He and his sister-"

"Laura" Stiles finished.

She looked at him, shocked. "Oh, do you know him? Well, obviously, because of your little… battle…"

"Yeah, I know him." Stiles leaned over to whisper in her ear "That's the guy I was talking about..."

Ethel's face lit up like a Christmas tree and a Chesire Cat worthy grin crept onto her face, her eyes lighting up behind her glasses. "So, this is Mr. Hottie?"

Stiles' face flushed bright red. "I didn't say that!" He turned to face Derek. "I didn't say that."

"So," Derek said, looking from his old babysitter to Stiles and back. "How do you to know eachother?"

"I used to work at the police station. Stiles' dad would bring Stiles in on paperwork days and he always sat with me, coloring in the little Lion King coloring book I kept in my desk for you."

"Okay, Ethel," Stiles said, face turning an even brighter red. "That's enough."

"What?" she asked, grinning. "You don't want me to embarrass you? Fine, then, I'll just get back to my booth…"

"Don't leave me alone with him!" Stiles begged, not letting go of the old woman's arm.

She gently loosen his grip. "Just remember what I said, sweetheart," she whispered. "Love does what it wants." And with that, Ethel was gone, leaving Stiles alone with the one person that he both never wanted to see again and never wanted to leave again.

* * *

**Lots of reviews** lead to a happy author (that's me! :D), which leads to **quicker updates**. It also leads to better living conditions for my plot bunny slaves. *insert witty picket sign saying thought up by plot bunny*

God, school starts in a fucking week. Someone burn down my school and I'll bake you a plate of cookies. And holy shit, _Peter Hale is the snarkiest mofo every birthed into this universe_. I love it. (Might write him in just for the lol's...)

And who is the mysterious John who was hitting on Stiles (kind of) in the cafe employee room?! Filler space. Not a competitor. Just filler space.


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